


I'll Be Your Best Kept Secret (and your biggest mistake)

by munzie (enjolrasenthusiast)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, M/M, Unrequited Love, aroace kenma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-13
Updated: 2014-10-13
Packaged: 2018-02-21 00:06:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2448050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enjolrasenthusiast/pseuds/munzie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bokuto supposed he loved Kuroo, though he would never admit it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Be Your Best Kept Secret (and your biggest mistake)

**Author's Note:**

> sorry

Bokuto’s skin was fiery as Kuroo’s hands roamed, fingertips dipping into the hollows of his collarbone and ghosting over the reddening marks along his shoulders. He was cold, almost shivering, but Kuroo’s touch left trails of blazing fire wherever they made contact. Kuroo mouthed at his neck, tracing his tongue and teeth over pathways they knew all too well. Bokuto gasped, arching up into the other’s touch and trying to ignore the fact that Kuroo never looked him in the eyes.

Kuroo never moved to his neck, never laid lips where marks could be seen, never kissed Bokuto because they both knew that wasn’t how they worked, that wasn’t what they did. They were secret, a pair that no one ever suspected and no one could ever know of, and they could never be found out because they both knew that the name on Kuroo’s lips when he came was not Bokuto’s.

Bokuto tried constantly to forget it.

After all, he was there for his friend. He was there when Kuroo first broke down, in the middle of the night outside of the Fukurodani gymnasium, hiccuping sops racking his broad shoulders and Kenma’s name escaping his lips. He was there to bring Kuroo back to his own house, to give him food and a hot bath and sit with him on the floor as he divulged every detail of his love for his best friend. He was there to kiss the tears from his eyes and to silence the sobs in his mouth by replacing them with his fingers. He was there to let Kuroo lie him down on his bedroom floor and take him, rough and hot and full of the passion he had saved for Kenma, and it was okay if Bokuto was left hard and throbbing long after Kuroo had fallen asleep, because this was never about Bokuto. He was there for Kuroo, and that was all.

He was there then, and he was there now.

Kuroo was mouthing at his chest, trailing nips and kisses down to the waistband of his briefs. Bokuto carded his hands through Kuroo’s hair, tugging and pulling at his black locks because while he couldn’t kiss him, he’d be damned if he couldn’t touch him either. Kuroo teased at the elastic of his waistband, pulling it away from Bokuto’s skin with his teeth and dipping his fingers down to caress just shy of where Bokuto really wanted him. Bokuto could see the smirk on his face, and he felt sick. He couldn’t stand this affectionate Kuroo, loathed the kisses that were planted on his skin when he knew that they weren’t really for him. As long as Kenma had him, Bokuto wouldn’t put up with affectionate Kuroo. He tugged harder at the hair fisted in his hand.

“ _Kuroo_ ,” Bokuto groaned lowly, and that seemed to do the trick. Somewhere in Kuroo’s head, a switch was flipped, and he tugged Bokuto’s briefs off in one clean move. They landed somewhere in the corner of Bokuto’s room - they never left Bokuto’s house; Kuroo’s space was for Kenma and Kenma alone, they both knew it - and Kuroo began to nip harshly at the angles of Bokuto’s hip. Bokuto bucked up into Kuroo’s touch, wanting - needing - him to get a fucking move on because if they stayed in one place for long, Bokuto would begin to think, and that was never good for either of them.

Finally, Kuroo moved his hand up to prod his fingers at the seam of Bokuto’s lips, and Bokuto happily began to suck on them because this was something, at least they were getting somewhere. As he licked at Kuroo’s fingers, he reached one hand out to dig around in his bedside table for the little bottle and string of packets that Kuroo always made sure he had stocked. He ripped one condom off and grabbed the lube, pulling his mouth off of Kuroo’s fingers and shoving the bottle into his hand instead. Kuroo popped the cap and drizzled it over his fingers, inserting one into Bokuto and pumping it slowly as Bokuto ripped open the condom.

This was a routine Bokuto knew all too well, one that he could run through in his head with no effort at all. Kuroo would prepare him, carefully but hurriedly, and Bokuto would avoid looking at the other as he slid in with a practiced ease that had come over time. Bokuto would sigh and gasp, clutch at the sheets on his bed (he would have to change them later, once Kuroo was gone. He never stayed the night.) and rake his blunt nails down the hard planes of Kuroo’s back.

He knew that his name would never grace Kuroo’s silver tongue, that the only sound that would grace his ears through Kuroo’s beautiful pants and moans would be the choked sob of _Kenma, Kenma, oh god Kenma._ Bokuto never corrected him, never bothered, because he knew that this was never for him. This was for Kuroo. Kuroo, who burned hot and bright with the fire that blazed in his heart and in his eyes. Kuroo, who ached with the pain of a love that would not, could not be returned. Kuroo, who stood behind Kenma no matter what, pushing aside his own feelings to support the boy he loved. Bokuto figured that that was simply what you did when you loved someone. You wanted to see them happy, help them be happy no matter what, even if it wasn’t with you.

Bokuto supposed he loved Kuroo, though he would never admit it.

So he laid there, playing his part as Kuroo rammed into him with a ferocity born of all of his pent up frustration. Skin slapped against skin and moans filled the thick air of Bokuto’s bedroom, and Kuroo turned his face down to the other boy’s. Their eyes never met, much as Bokuto wished they would, because that just wasn’t how they worked. Bokuto turned his face to the side, staring at the calendar on his wall and hoping it made Kuroo feel comfortable enough to move his gaze around more. He felt Kuroo’s every touch, burning hot against his freezing skin, slicing open raw wounds and letting his heart bleed out through the traces of his fingertips. Kuroo’s lips latched onto the skin where collarbone met shoulder, nipping harsh bruises onto pale flesh before soothing them with his flaming tongue. Bokuto gasped, careful not to let his voice be heard because that would ruin the illusion he had laid out for the other, would smother the image of Kenma laid out in Bokuto’s place.

Kuroo came with a shudder and a broken sob of _Fuck, Kenma_ , collapsing onto Bokuto’s bare chest. He laid there for a few moments, and Bokuto ignored his untouched erection in favor of savoring the few moments that Kuroo’s skin was pressed against him, the few moments that Kuroo’s heady scent filled his lungs. It was never long enough, and it was no time at all before Kuroo was pushing himself up and sliding out of Bokuto, pulling off the condom and tottering on unsteady legs to gather up his clothes. He disappeared into the bathroom, and Bokuto knew that was the last he would see of the other boy. Kuroo would leave through the other door of the bathroom once he was done, stepping out into the hallway rather than back into Bokuto’s bedroom. He would leave silently and without a trace, locking the door behind himself and making sure he was out of sight long before Bokuto’s parents returned home.

Bokuto forced himself to stay away from the window as he finished himself off into his sheets, choking down the name that bubbled up in his throat for fear that its owner could still hear him. Kuroo could never know. Bokuto gathered up his clothes silently, lethargically, limbs heavy with the weight of his feelings for the other boy. He wondered if this was how Kuroo felt, if Kuroo knew the sting that tore at Bokuto’s heart with icy claws. He figured it was probably different. While his ears were filled with the sound of his beloved moaning another name, Kuroo carried the knowledge that his beloved did not love, would not love, could not love. Bokuto wondered if that was better or worse than his situation.

It didn’t matter though, he figured. Nothing would change. Kuroo would hurt, because Kenma could not return his feelings. Bokuto would hurt, because Kuroo didn’t even know about his feelings. He would stay because he loved Kuroo, and because some small part of him held onto the hope that maybe, just maybe, Kuroo could grow to love him too. It was unhealthy, he knew, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He would tear himself down a hundred times over if it helped build Kuroo up even the smallest bit.

He pulled the curtain shut over his window as Kuroo walked down the pathway to the street, not even offering himself the temptation of watching the other leave.

**Author's Note:**

> still sorry


End file.
